


Sherlock,

by Salambo06



Series: Tumblr Collection [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Atonement AU (just the beginning), Declaration of Love, Dry Humping, Epistolary, First Time, Fluff, John writes letters, M/M, Miscommunication, Porn with Feelings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salambo06/pseuds/Salambo06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a post on Tumblr.</p><p>John tries to write a letter to Sherlock, explaining his feelings. He ends up writing more than he intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Heather](http://snogbox1.tumblr.com/) for her job as a beta !  
> [My Tumblr](http://letthechoirsing.tumblr.com/)

**_Draft 1 – thrown in the trash_ **

Sherlock,

There is so much I want to say, so much I’ve kept to myself for so long. I think it’s time to-

 

_**Draft 5 – thrown in the trash**_

Sherlock,

There’s someth-

 

**_Draft 7 – thrown in the trash_**

Sherlock,

I’m writing this letter hoping it will change our relationship dramatically. I think we’ve been moving towards it for a long time now. I’m ready.

Are you? Please, tell me you a-

 

**_Draft 10 – torn and thrown in the trash_**

Sherlock,

I love you, I love you, I lo-

 

**_Draft 13 – put into the envelope by mistake_**

Sherlock,

I want to devour you. 

Every inch of your body, every bone, every sharp angle and hidden patch of your skin. 

I want to consume all of you. 

First, your face. Your eyes, eyelids, eyebrow and wrinkles. Your cheekbones, chin, forehead and jaw. I want to learn the line of your face with my lips and tongue. Your mouth, gorgeous, full, mine. I want to ravish you, make you lose your breath, your speech, your mind. I want to kiss you until you can only remember my taste and the way our tongues slide against one another. 

Then, your neck. I want to mouth at the skin I know will be tender and smooth under my fingers. I want to mark it, make it mine and mine only. I want to bite, graze and suck. Trace the three freckles where neck meets shoulder. I want to watch as the blush I’ve learned to love spreads from your cheeks to your chest under my touch. 

After that, Sherlock, I won’t be able to stop.

I want to taste all of you. I want my name on your lips when I kiss down your chest. Your fists around the bed sheets as I suck and tease at one hard nipple. Moans, gasps and whimpers when I finally get lower and lower. Your hands in my hair when I suck at your head. I want to lick and kiss along your cock, lean, hot and hard in my mouth. 

Your back arching on the bed. Your mouth hanging open. Sweat on your thighs. Your legs shaking. Your toes curled. The pleasure building, _agonizing, voracious_. Your hips moving, hypnotizing. Your breath ravaged. Your hands on my head, silently asking for my permission. You, thrusting into my mouth, uncontrolled, wanton. 

God, I want to fuck you.

Become one, ease myself into you and never leave again. I want to thrust, push, drive into you until you cannot breathe anymore, not without me. I want you beneath me, open, trusting and mine. _Exquisite, fascinating, magnificent_. My hands in your hair, pulling. I want to hear you. My name cried out, sobbed, whined. Your voice breaking as you get closer and closer. The headboard slapping against the wall. I want to close my eyes and memorise every sound, _euphoric, wild._

I want to posses you, ruin you for everyone else. I want to watch you desperate for more. Your fingers digging into my hips and your nails leaving marks on my back. Our bodies close, so very close. Your lips against mine. Your heart under my palm. Your legs around my waist. Your eyes fixed on mine.

Every day. Every night. Everywhere. 

I want you.

John.

 

**_Final version – forgotten on the desk_**

Sherlock,

I can’t wake up tomorrow and still wonder if I missed my chance or if I ever had a chance at all.

If I still have one?

I want to wake up tomorrow to your body next to mine, to your face turned towards me and your lips waiting for mine.

Yours,

John.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock doesn't notice the letter right away.

It lies on the kitchen table for hours, untouched, until he finally puts down his violin and goes to pick at some leftovers in the fridge. 

When he catches sight of his name written on the envelope, Sherlock stops still. John's handwriting.

His hands are shaking as he opens it.  
By the time he finished to read it once, twice, Sherlock’s heart is pounding in his ears, his breath short and his mouth dry. 

He reads it again, just because he can.

“Sherlock? Are you home? Sherlock?”

John bursts into the flat, breathing heavily and his entire face drops when he spots the letter in Sherlock’s hands.

“I- I can explain.” He begins, advancing slowly towards him. “I didn't-”

He sighs, looking down. “You weren't supposed to read this.” 

Sherlock folds the letter carefully, placing it on the table. John wrote it. He sat at his desk, took a pen and wrote each word. 

“I’ll just be going then.”

“No.”

His own voice startles him, and John looks up. He’s still avoiding Sherlock’s eyes, his hands clenched by his side. He’s nervous but there something else too.

“No?”

_Every day._

Sherlock stands up.

_Every night._

“Sherlock?”

_Everywhere._

He walks to John, the written words resonating in his head.

_I want you._

He stops in front of John, eyes fixed on his for a second before backing him up against the wall and crushing their mouths together. John stays still for a moment and Sherlock catches his lower lip between his. His eyes are shut tight, his entire body tensed. 

_I want you._

The first touch of John’s hands on his hips almost makes Sherlock sob with relief. He applies more pressure to their bodies and finally John’s mouth opens for him, both of them moaning as their tongues meet and meet again. 

Sherlock’s own hands are cupping John’s face, tilting his head so he could deepen the kiss. He can't remember the last time he felt so aroused, so desperate for more. He wants to kiss him for hours, stay right here and glue their mouths together.  
He feels John’s hands slide up and down his back, their groins resting against one another, barely touching. Sherlock is hard, achingly hard. He wants to thrust, to rut against John. He wants to peel off his clothes and discover each and every patch of skin hidden there. He wants to kiss and lick and bite. He needs, he craves.

“Sherlock.” John pants against his lips as he moves his hand to Sherlock’s arse, pushing just so their cocks are finally in contact. “Fuck.”

Sherlock bites down his lip, resting his head on John’s shoulder. He begins to thrust lightly, waiting for John join him. He’s panting against John’s neck and unable to stop himself, Sherlock sucks at the tender skin where neck meets shoulder.

“Oh, God!”

Sherlock suddenly finds himself pushed back, John’s body still attached to his until they're both on the floor, John above him. The pressure against his erection is perfect, absolutely perfect, and Sherlock arches his back as John continues to frot against him.

More, he needs more.

John’s hand is fumbling with both of their trousers and Sherlock spreads his legs wider. _Yes, John’s hand. Yes_. The first touch of cold fingers against his burning erection make Sherlock freeze, a loud moan escaping him, quickly swallowed by John’s mouth. The room is spinning as John’s hand closes around both of their cocks, stroking them from base to tip in slow movements. 

“Yes, yes.” John gasps when Sherlock begins to thrust into his fist.

He can't help himself. This is too much and at the same time not enough. 

“Oh fuck, Sherlock.”

John is losing his pace, his forehead resting against Sherlock’s as they pant against each other’s mouth. Sherlock keeps his eyes closed, his hands on John’s arse, urging him to move faster, _harder_. He’s close, so very close.

John comes first, his hand stopping as he spends himself, his entire body rigid above Sherlock. Only then does Sherlock allow himself to open his eyes, watching in wonder John’s face, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide open and fixed on Sherlock. 

It only takes another weak thrust for Sherlock to find his own release, his come mixing with John’s on his shirt. John is kissing down his cheeks and jaw as he calms down, their chests rising rapidly against one another’s and John’s hand still on their sensitive cocks.

“Christ, Sherlock.” John breathes out before rolling to his side. 

Soon, only the sound of their ravaged breathing is filling the living room. Sherlock closes his eyes again. He needs to go clean himself and change.

“Sherlock, I-”

“Don't worry John, your letter was perfectly clear.” Sherlock cuts him off, tucking his now flaccid penis back inside his pants, “I'll be happy to do- _that_ again whenever you want to.”

He stands up. 

“Sherlock, wait-” 

Without another word, Sherlock hurries to the bathroom, legs shaking and an ache spreading to his entire chest. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last part, or 2400 words of porn! Enjoy !!

John barely had the time to stand up before he hears the bathroom door closing. He is still half hard, the memory of Sherlock’s body under his stealing his breath. He clenches his fists by his side, inhaling deeply. 

The letter is still on the table.

It had taken three hours for John to realise his mistake. He was in a middle of writing a prescription for a patient when he saw himself put the final version of his letter on the desk. Not into the envelope.

He doesn’t even dare to read it. He can still remember every word he wrote, and Sherlock had read it. He had read it and gave John the best orgasm he had in years afterwards.

He had read it and thought John was only looking for a quick shag from time to time.

“What an idiot,” he mutters to himself, the whisper echoing in the quiet living room.

He needs to fix this. He can’t just have casual sex with Sherlock. He won’t be able to restrain himself, to hide what he feels every time Sherlock kisses him, touches him, makes love to him. John wants more, needs more. 

But, what if Sherlock only wants casual sex?

“Fuck.” John swears out loud.

A day ago he didn’t even know if Sherlock had sex at all. 

_No_ , John shrugs. 

He’s in love with this madman, and after what just happened, he isn’t going to run away.

Storming up to his room, John grabs the correct letter and hurries down the stairs. He has no idea what Sherlock is doing in the bathroom, but he will need to come out at some point.

“Sherlock?”

The water isn’t running.

“Sherlock, can you open the door?”

No response.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine, John, I’m fine!” Sherlock snaps, his voice much louder than John expected. He’s probably leaning against the door.

“Can you come out?”

He hears Sherlock sigh, the sound making John’s chest ache and at the same time his stomach flutter as hope fills him. 

“I need to speak with you,” John adds, resting his forehead against the door, tightening his grip on the letter. 

“You really don’t,” Sherlock replies and John takes a deep breath.

He doesn’t even need to look at the letter as he begins, 

“Sherlock, I can’t wake up tomorrow and still wonder if I missed my chance or if I ever had a chance at all.”

Silence. 

“If I still have one?”

Movement behind the door. John lets his hand rest on the door handle.

“I want to wake up tomorrow to your body next to mine, to your face turned towards me and your lips waiting for mine.”

He takes another deep breath, stepping back.

“Yours, John.”

He opens his eyes, not remembering having closed them, just in time to watch the door open. Sherlock’s eyes fall on the letter in John’s hand, staying there for a long moment before looking up at him.

“Another letter?” He asks in a whisper and John nods. “Read it again.”

“Sherlock, I can’t wake up tomorrow and still wonder if I missed my chance or if I ever had a chance at all.” Sherlock steps closer, “If I still have one?”

John can now feel his breath against his lips, rapid, hot.

“I want to wake up tomorrow to your body next to mine, to your face turned towards me and your lips waiting for mine.”

His eyes flutter shut as Sherlock leans closer and closer, and the last words are whispered against Sherlock’s lips, “Yours, John.”

This kiss is nothing like their first one. Sherlock’s lips almost seem unsure under John’s, trembling, just like his arms when they close around John’s waist. They remain still for a long moment, breathing the same air, mouths pressed together. John’s chest has never felt warmer.

“John,” Sherlock breathes out when they part.

“You were supposed to find this letter,” John explains, smiling as he feels Sherlock’s arms tightening around him. 

“It’s a nice letter,” Sherlock smiles before reclaiming John’s lips.

They kiss and kiss, John licking and nibbling at Sherlock’s lips until he lets him in. Sherlock moans as their tongues meet and John brings their bodies even closer. He’s already craving more, more contact, more skin. He needs to see him, naked on his bed, beautiful and waiting for John, and John only.

“But I do love the other one too,” Sherlock continues when John begins to kiss at his jaw and neck. He presses closer, and John can’t hold back a loud gasp when he feels Sherlock’s erection against his stomach.

God, it’s only been twenty minutes.

“Sherlock,” he moans before grazing his teeth against the pale and tender skin of Sherlock’s neck. 

The hands on his back drop to his arse, Sherlock rocking his hips as he arches his neck. John feels his own cock hardening, the promise of more making him feel like a teenager again. 

“God, I want you,” John breathes out, kissing up Sherlock’s neck.

“I know,” Sherlock smirks and John kisses it away. “Bedroom.”

John obliges, the sight of Sherlock spread on his bed making his entire body ache with desire. He gets rid of his shirt and trousers quickly before crawling on top of Sherlock, capturing his mouth immediately. Together they make a quick work of Sherlock’s clothes, and soon they’re both wearing only pants, hips rocking slowly together. It’s soft, so soft. Nothing compared to their previous frenzy. 

Sherlock’s hands are tracing patterns on his back, figures John can’t understand. It feels nice, intimate. Like they’ve been doing this for years. John lets his fingers thread through Sherlock’s curls, causing Sherlock to moan into their kiss. John smiles, the tips of his fingers brushing his nape, and Sherlock’s entire body shakes.

“What is it?” John frowns, breaking their kiss.

“Nothing,” Sherlock murmurs, raising his head to kiss him again but John stops him.

“Tell me,” he whispers, repeating the movement and once again, Sherlock squirms on the bed. 

“It tickles,” he finally admits, a faint blush on his cheeks and John laughs, the sound echoing in the bedroom.

“Really?” he teases before letting his fingers brush the apparently sensitive skin.

“John!” Sherlock protests but he’s smiling too, and John swears he could burst any moment. 

He does it again, still laughing and soon Sherlock is joining him, still feigning discomfort. He laughs and he laughs and John has to kiss him again, just to make that sound his. 

“God, I love you,” he whispers when they part again, his lips brushing Sherlock’s.

Sherlock lets out a whimper, his hands finding John’s arse, pushing his pants away, and John doesn’t wait to do the same. He slips his fingers under the waistband of Sherlock’s pants and watches as they slide down his legs, Sherlock’s cock hard and lean against his stomach. John’s mouth waters, and he licks his lips at the sight before him. Sherlock moans and John looks up, seeing Sherlock’s head thrown back on the pillow, both hands gripping at the bed sheets. 

“You’re beautiful,” John whispers against his skin, the words falling on Sherlock’s chest. He kisses and kisses until he reaches one nipple, sucking lightly and one of Sherlock’s hands comes to rest on his head. 

“John.”

“Absolutely beautiful.”

Sherlock’s other hand cups at the base of his head, urging him to move back up and kiss him. John settles on top of him again, Sherlock spreading his legs wider until both of their cocks are resting against one another. John knows they’ve done the exact same thing not an hour ago, but everything feels multiplied now with Sherlock’s bare body under his. 

“John, please,” Sherlock moans as he hooks his legs around John’s waist, heels digging into his lower back. 

“Anything, love, anything.” John murmurs, kissing Sherlock’s cheeks, nose and eyes. 

“I need you inside me,” Sherlock continues and John bites his lip at the words, his cock growing harder at just the mere thought. 

“God, Sherlock.”

“I have- I-” 

Sherlock reaches towards the nightstand, his hands searching for a moment before he finds a bottle of lube. He puts it on the bed, legs falling open to John’s side in a clear invitation. John knows he should ask for a condom. He knows he’s clean, having being tested after Mary, but Sherlock was once a drug addict, his mind supplies.

“John,” Sherlock cups his face with both hands, sounding much more serious all the sudden, “I have a condom ready if want one, but you should know I’m clean.” He smiles, “It’s your choice.”

“I-” John begins, the rational part inside him leaning towards safety, but he stops. There is trust in Sherlock’s eyes, a trust beyond words. “We don’t need one.” He finally says and Sherlock relaxes under him, capturing John’s mouth.

John slicks his fingers before sliding his hand between their bodies, stopping at Sherlock’s entrance. He lets one finger massage his hole, giving Sherlock time to get used to it before pushing in, just a little. Sherlock’s breath catches, his mouth going still against John’s before relaxing. John waits for another second before slipping his finger in deeper. He sets a slow rhythm, waiting until Sherlock is panting to add another finger. This time Sherlock barely clenches around him, the intrusion easier. 

“John, John.”

His hands are running up and down John’s back, legs shaking. He cants his hips higher, John’s fingers sinking deeper. 

“Oh,” Sherlock breathes out, his head thrown back and John doesn’t waste any time ravishing the offered neck. 

The third finger makes Sherlock wince, his hole contracting around John’s fingers. John stops, mouthing his way up Sherlock’s neck until he’s kissing him again. He waits for him to adjust, kissing and kissing until he can finally push in a little more. By the time he has found a regular rhythm, fingering him slowly, Sherlock’s is squirming on the bed, eyes shut tight and chest rising heavily. 

“John, more.”

“Yes, yes.” John breathes against his lips, kissing him once more before straightening up, resting on his heels between Sherlock’s legs. “Fuck, Sherlock.”

If he had been beautiful earlier, John doesn’t have the right words to describe Sherlock now. Lips swollen, marks on his neck, breathing rapidly. Breathtaking. 

“John, please.”

John leans down, stealing another quick kiss before straightening again. He grabs the lube, pouring some on his fingers before taking himself in hand. He had almost forgotten how hard he was, his cock throbbing in his hand. He moans as Sherlock licks his lips, eyes fixed on John’s cock. God, that mouth. _Later_ , John thinks as he closes his eyes.

The sudden touch of Sherlock’s hand on him makes him jump, eyes snapping open as he lets out a loud, loud, moan.

“Fuck, Sherlock.”

“I had to,” Sherlock breathes out, his lips already against John’s. “Had to.” 

John thighs are shaking as he lets Sherlock stroke him, lubing his cock efficiently. 

“Christ, Sherl-”

Sherlock locks an arm around his neck, forcing them both to lie back, his other still around John’s cock. He guides it against his hole, undulating his hips a little before letting go. John only need to push in, the head of his cock breaching Sherlock. Both of their growls echo in the room, Sherlock’s legs twining around his waist again. 

“Yes, John.”

Sherlock’s nails are grazing John’s back, probably leaving marks but John couldn’t care less. He’s sinking deeper and deeper, Sherlock’s tight heat surrounding him. Sherlock’s entire body arches when he’s finally buried deep, his balls resting against Sherlock’s arse. They remain still for a moment, panting in each other mouths, eyes wide open. John nudges their noses together, pulling back a little before entering him again. They rock slowly, John pushing back more and more with each thrust until he’s almost pulling out entirely.

“John, John, _John._ ”

John can feel Sherlock’s burning erection trapped between their bodies, each thrust bringing him closer and closer, and he eases the pressure. Sherlock’s whimper resonates in the room, his hips rising to seek out the friction but John drives into him harshly, hitting Sherlock’s prostate directly. He needs it to last, just a little more.

Sherlock’s hands have found his arse again, his hips moving with John. They aren’t kissing anymore, barely breathing the same air. Sherlock’s head is rolling on the pillow, biting down on his lower lip with each hard thrust. John can’t look away.

“Oh fuck.”

He’s closer than he thought, his balls tightening. Sherlock seems lost to pleasure, the most delicious sounds coming out of his mouth. It’s beyond anything John had ever dreamed, ever imagined. He loves him, god, he loves him. 

“John, please.”

“Yes!”

John’s hand finds Sherlock’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Sherlock is shaking, his thighs covered in sweat against John’s skin. He’s barely holding on now, and John cants his hips just a little higher, aiming for Sherlock’s prostate with each thrust until he feels him tremble and then go still under him, come spurting between them. Sherlock’s moan echoes in the entire flat, driving John mad with lust as he pounds into him a few more times before coming, hard and hot inside Sherlock.

“John,” Sherlock pants weakly, hands returning to tracing patterns on his back as John falls on top of him, boneless.

Sherlock is kissing at his hair and temple, heart beating fast under John. He rolls them to their side, John slipping out of him and Sherlock gasps and kisses him. John briefly notices him cleaning their stomachs with god knows what before bringing their bodies back together. John is still trying to catch his breath but he lets Sherlock kiss him, chastely, tenderly. 

After long minutes of snogging, Sherlock pushes back a little, whispering, “Where did you leave it?”

John frowns, “What?”

“The letter, the second one.”

“Somewhere on the floor I guess, why?”

“I need to read it.” Sherlock explains, closing his eyes.

“You mean you don’t know it by heart already?” John mocks and Sherlock smiles, snuggling closer. 

“Read it again,” Sherlock murmurs before yawning and John pulls the duvet up above them.

“Sherlock, I can’t wake up tomorrow and still wonder if I missed my chance or if I ever had a chance at all. If I still have one? I want to wake up tomorrow to your body next to mine, to your face turned towards me and your lips waiting for mine. Yours, John.”

Sherlock’s smile grows wider, his eyes barely opening as he says, “You always had a chance, John. From the very beginning.”

“Good,” John smiles as he kisses him, tangling their legs and throwing his arm around Sherlock’s waist.  
Sleep finds them quickly, snuggled against each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may write more in this verse, whenever the inspiration strike !  
> Thank you for all yours comments, they keep me going <3

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comment are very appreciated !


End file.
